Fang Yun stared into the room in a trance, utterly motionless.
The auras of those living beings from various races were indeed growing stronger. That could not be faked. Cultivation realms and power could be disguised as much lower, but forcibly raising them was exceedingly difficult.
Yet there was no free lunch in this world. If contemplating a finger alone could grant insight into the Sacred Way, what need was there for cultivation?
Still, if this finger was power left behind by a mighty figure of the Ancestor-Proclaiming Realm and contained thoughts of the Great Way, attaining Sainthood through comprehending it would not be all that extraordinary.
What struck Fang Yun as strange was this: if this place was a trap, why display those dead seekers of enlightenment?
If it was not a trap, why had the previous seekers died here? Was it simply the price of comprehending the Sacred Way?
With a treasure before him, Fang Yun hesitated.
If this finger truly was a treasure, Fang Yun had no desire to insist on claiming it. Comprehending even a little of its Sacred Way would suffice. The Withering Force, for instance, had uses beyond imagining.
But as a scholar well versed in the Classics of the Sages, Fang Yun kept feeling that everything inside contradicted what he had learned and knew. Something about it seemed wrong.
There is treasure ahead. Do I take it or abandon it?
Fang Yun lowered his head in thought, countless ideas surfacing in his mind.
Suddenly, Fang Yun took an ordinary mirror from his seashell, pointed it into the room, and turned his head to look into it.
In the mirror, the Treasure Pavilion remained magnificent, filled with gold and jade. The finger was there, the statues were there, and so were the living seekers